


Frayed Ties

by overlordpotatoe



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Master/Slave, Original Slash, Slash, Slavery, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overlordpotatoe/pseuds/overlordpotatoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danya, a mage with a secret, is nineteen when he's finally sold as a gift. But the man he's been given to has no need or want for a slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rewriting this story from scratch. Enjoy!

Danya avoided his reflection in the mirror as he stepped into the small room he shared with two other boys. Occasionally he would indulge himself in the torture of examining his form, mentally cataloging an ever growing list of flaws, but each time he chose that path he found despair drawing him deeper. Today he would resist.

 

The others were in lessons right now, but he’d learned all they had to teach him here years ago. When the wardens had no need for his assistance in teaching the younger slaves, he was sent back to the dormitory to spend the time alone.

 

He had turned nineteen a month ago. There had been no celebration, just a grim, tense awareness. With his flaws, and now his age, he would never sell as a Companion. When the time came — and it surely would soon — Milaine House would cut their loses and make what money they could selling him for some other purpose. Perhaps someone would want him as a house slave, or a labourer, or… well. There were many possibilities.

 

Danya swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat as he sat down on his bed. He wished so badly to be like the other boys, to be precious and valuable and well bred. But he wasn’t. He could never be. With the taint in his blood, he was lucky to be alive. If anyone found out…

 

If anyone found out, that very taint that put him at risk might be his only chance at survival. Danya held his hand out, palm up, and focussed on heat. They had been taught this skill to warm drinks or soothe a master’s aching muscles with a heated touch, but in private Danya had discovered he could push it a little further. 

 

Flame sparked to life in the centre of his palm and slowly grew, energy flooding out of him in its purest form. It felt almost alive in his hand, a simple intelligence fed by his magic. It did not burn him.

 

Danya was terrified that one day somebody would realise that his hair was too dark and his shoulders were too broad. That his father couldn’t possibly have simply been a poorly bred house slave his mother had shared a moment of unsupervised affection with during a party, as she had claimed. That only the genetics of a Soldier could combine with a finely bred Companion to produce something as plain as him.

 

The matron at the nursery had seen through that lie and chosen to protect him. Nobody else would be so sentimental.

 

A tickle at the edge of his senses alerted Danya to someone coming up the stairs and he closed his hand over the flame, extinguishing it. There was nobody in this world he trusted well enough to discover his secret.

 

Though if there had been one person, it would have been Duran, the boy who was approaching now. Danya could distinguish the mental feel of him from the others easily, the gentle confidence of the seventeen year old setting him apart. Danya would never tell him this, however. His ability to feel the energy of others was another aberrant trait he should not have possessed.

 

Duran opened the door to the room they shared and tilted his head towards the stairs. “Line up.”

 

Danya sighed. Duran was excluded from these. Though he was boarded at Milaine House, he had a master who visited him frequently. Danya envied him. Although Danya lining up to be examined by potential buyers was equally pointless, the wardens insisted he take part.

 

Duran kept a hand on Danya’s back at they headed downstairs, dropping it only when they stepped outside. It helped push back some of the darkness in Danya’s mind just a little.

 

The others were already outside, a straight line of nearly two dozen boys in age order stripped bare and doing their best to stand still and stare straight ahead. Out in the sunshine, their blond hair shone so brightly it looked almost like gold. Danya’s own hair was a dull light brown that reminded him of straw. The wardens had done him the small mercy of cutting it short enough that he couldn’t see it without a mirror. 

 

Danya stripped off his robe and took his place at the end of the line next to Fanner.

 

Already, Fanner was struggling to keep himself still. He tried — oh goodness did he  _ try _ — but he never could manage it. At thirteen, when he’d first arrived at Milaine House, it had been easy enough to pass off as endearing that he had almost been purchased a few times. At sixteen, it was no longer cute. It was a clear flaw.

 

Danya’s heart ached for him. He couldn’t be faulted in any other aspect. He was beautiful, diligent, demure, but if asked to stand perfectly still for more than a few moments he simply could not manage it. Fanner had tried. The wardens had tried. Danya had spent hours working with him alone in their room, trying every strategy he could think of, but it had been no use. The boy was what he was. There was no changing it.

 

A warden gave Fanner a discreet tap with her cane as she walked past, but she knew as well as they all did that it was a futile gesture. Fanner stood tall and still for all of ten seconds before he started fidgeting again.

 

Their customer today was a woman, which was less common but not unheard of. Though it was considered inappropriate for women to keep slaves for sexual purposes, an expensive Companion still served as a valuable status symbol.

 

The woman walked straight past the youngest of the boys without so much as a glance in their direction and continued down the line. She didn’t even start to look at the boys until she had neared Danya’s end of the line, and even then she dismissed each one quickly.

 

Fanner was the first one she stopped to examine. Danya had to fight to keep his expression blank as Fanner forgot where he was supposed to be looking, accidentally made eye contact with the customer, pointedly looked away, then belatedly remembered he was supposed to he staring straight ahead and corrected himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Danya saw the woman’s lips purse before she moved on to him.

 

Danya was used to being dismissed outright, so he was surprised when the woman stopped in front of him and looked him up and down. He let her move his face from side to side and turned when she prodded him.

 

“He doesn’t look like the others,” she commented to the warden.

 

“We sometimes trial new studs to diversify our gene pool,” the warden offered, the standard lie. “It’s an experimental process that doesn’t always yield desirable results, but as long as any aberrations are purely physical we still offer the offspring for sale.”

 

That wasn’t true either. Even without knowing the extent of things, they were well aware he wasn’t like the others. He had never quite been badly behaved, but if one of them was going to question authority, to speak out of turn, it was usually him. Like Fanner’s fidgeting, he never intended to misbehave. The traits expected of him simply didn’t come to him as naturally as they did to the others.

 

“He’s older than the others,” the woman noted. “You’ve had some difficulty selling him.”

 

“When people come to Milaine House, they’re seeking something specific. A slave who doesn’t match those signature ideals tends to get overlooked, despite still meeting our exceptional standards when it comes to training and breeding.”

 

The woman looked Danya over again and sighed uncertainly. “I won’t pay your standard rates for a slave you’ve clearly had such difficulty getting rid of.”

 

Danya’s chest squeezed. Someone wanted to buy him? She seemed strict and unaffectionate and Danya would need to be castrated if he were to be owned by a woman, but if someone finally wanted him, at all, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

 

The warden must have been as surprised as Danya was, because it took her a moment to respond. “Yes, of course. Our standard rates drop with age, so—”

 

“I want an additional twenty percent off.”

 

The warden hesitated, but only for a second. They would definitely be making a loss on him at that price, but they would never get a better one. “Yes, I suppose that would be acceptable.”

 

“I want him tattooed at no additional cost as well. Here is the design.” She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to the warden. “I will have someone collect him tomorrow afternoon. Have him dressed appropriately for a dinner party. He’s to be a gift for a military man who will be in attendance.”

 

Duran was at Danya’s side as soon as the warden had led the woman away to organise payment, his hands gentle on Danya’s skin as he helped him back into his robe. He’d been sold. He would finally have a master. Danya almost felt too overwhelmed to be happy.

 

Fanner was at his side too, and together they led Danya back upstairs.

 

It wasn’t until they were back in their shared room with the door shut that Duran finally broke the silence. “Military.”

 

“Yes, but…” Fanner shrugged. “I think it could be okay, Danya. Military camps often aren’t pleasant for slaves, but you’re not...”

 

“I’m not desirable to most men,” Danya finished for him, because Fanner was too polite to say it.

 

“Not to a man who doesn’t desire men, perhaps,” Duran offered diplomatically. He sat Danya down on his bed and clasped their hands together. “I assume your master does, given that you were selected. If that is the case, it will be to your advantage. A man who desires boys, or who will settle for one in place of a woman, will always lose interest in time. A man who desires men may offer a more permanent position at his side.”

 

Though more likely not. They were all aware of the allure youth offered. Besides, his master hadn’t even selected Danya himself. What if he wasn’t what he wanted at all? Danya was to be tattooed with the man’s crest before they even met, and then he would be unable to be resold if his master didn’t like him.

 

Yet even with all his doubts and fears, Danya was in a better position than he had been before his purchase. Now he had hope.

 

#

 

That night, Danya laid still on a flat table while one of the wardens skillfully tattooed his new master’s crest onto his chest just below his left shoulder. Slowly, the silvery ink took the form of a proud lion. Despite all of his apprehension, the sight of it warmed Danya deep inside. He had a master.

 

#

 

The next afternoon Danya sat on the steps outside Milaine House, his belongings packed up into a bag at his feet and Duran sitting close beside him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. They would almost certainly never see one another again. 

 

Danya shut his eyes and leant into the warmth of Duran’s body as he focussed on the energy passing between them. Duran couldn’t feel it like Danya could, but he understood, as they all did, the need for physical contact to keep them in balance in times of turmoil.

 

Danya had been expecting a carriage, so it was a surprise when a red car pulled up in front of the House. Danya had never seen one in person before. Fuel was too expensive for most people to bother.

 

The slave who got out of the car had short, dark hair that had been neatly greased back. He grinned broadly and waved, making sure to let them catch a glimpse of the black X tattooed on the back of his hand that meant he was a Neutral. Mages like him, born without magic, were allowed to be sent out to perform errands.

 

“I’m Baine,” the Neutral introduced himself as he took Danya’s bag from him. “Are you ready to go?”

 

Danya pulled Duran against him into a final, tight clutch, then took a steadily breath as he turned back to Baine. “Yes. I’m ready.”

 

#

 

Riding in a car was not at all like riding in a carriage. It was faster, smoother, and an altogether unnatural experience. Danya had read books, seen pictures of times when cars filled the roads, a common thing for even poor families to own, but he found it hard to imagine it. The sheer number of people, the huge industries required to construct so many vehicles and provide the fuel they required to run. The scale of it all seemed impossible.

 

Baine kept up a constant, sunny chatter as he drove. He explained how the car worked, told Danya funny stories about mishaps the rushed preparations for tonight’s party had caused, and enthused about all the leftovers he was going to eat after it was over. It was a welcome distraction from Danya’s uncertain future.

 

#

 

Mrs Moore, the woman who had come to purchase Danya yesterday, emptied Danya’s bag out on the floor of Baine’s small bedroom and sorted through his clothes with a frown on her face. She had come to check on their preparations for the party a few minutes ago and immediately declared Danya’s attire unsuitable.

 

She tossed one of Danya’s robes aside and scowled in annoyance. “All of this is far too concealing. Your appearance doesn’t make it clear what your purpose in this world is, so your manner of dress needs to.”

 

Danya kept his head down and his mouth shut. It was the best he could do.

 

“Baine, find him something more fitting. I want his chest bared to show off Captain Bell’s crest and a collar around his throat.” Mrs Moore looked Danya up and down again and made a face. “Maybe some coal around his eyes? I don’t know. Make what you can out of him.”

 

Baine offered her a disarming smile and gave Danya a pat on the cheek. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Captain Bell will love him.”

 

She grimaced, unconvinced. “Well, I hope so.”

 

Once the door was shut behind her, Baine turned a more sincere, sympathetic smile on Danya. “You’re gorgeous and I’m sure he’ll love you.”

 

Danya made a face. “Nobody has ever chosen me before, but I’m to believe a man who has never seen me will find me to his tastes?”

 

“Just because you have a hard time selling fruit out of a butchershop doesn’t mean there’s no market for pears. You were chosen specifically because you  _ do _ match what we know of his preferences.”

 

A niggling fear grew in Danya’s belly. He hoped he was wrong, but… “He does want a slave, though, doesn’t he? He knows he’s to be given one?”

 

The uncomfortable expression on Baine’s face answered the question before he even spoke. “Well… not  _ exactly _ . You’re supposed to be a surprise.”

 

Danya sat down heavily on the edge of Baine’s bed. “A  _ surprise _ ? They bought someone a slave without asking? A life-long commitment — I would  _ hope _ — and they just—”

 

Baine was making calming motions with his hands and Danya realised he had raised his voice. “I know, I know, it’s stupid, I  _ know _ . I advised against it, but…” He shrugged helplessly. “But we shouldn’t despair yet. For now, let’s focus on making you so stunning he couldn’t possibly resist.”

 

Danya made a quiet sound that was partly agreement but mostly distress. At this point, what else could they do?


	2. Chapter 2

Around half an hour before the first guests started arriving, Danya was seated at one of the long tables in the dining hall and told to stay put as the house slaves set things up around him. 

 

He had never felt so uncomfortable in his entire life. Baine had done as Mrs Moore had asked and scrounged up clothes that fit her specifications from some of the bed slaves rented to entertain the guests. A leather collar shifted against his throat every time he swallowed and the only other item of clothing he wore was a strip of cloth that tied around his waist and just barely made him decent by anyone’s definition of the word. He knew what he looked like, and it wasn’t a finely bred Companion.

 

At least he was no longer the only one at the table once guests began to seat themselves, but he still stood out far more than he would have liked. Most other slaves knelt on the floor or stood behind their masters, ready to serve, and none of them had been dressed with as little subtlety as Danya. He kept his hands folded in his lap and his eyes on the table in front of him as a man sat down next to him.

 

He could feel the man’s presence, his energy, a solid force just slightly too far away for Danya to get a proper taste of it. Still, it gave Danya something steady to focus on and helped him to stabilise himself in that way.

 

“They sat me next to a slave,” the man commented to his friend. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

 

“He’s probably somebody’s pet,” Danya heard the man’s friend reply. His energy was loose and in constant motion. Not in the least relaxing, but not unpleasant.

 

“There’s no one with him.”

 

“I don’t know, Simon. Maybe he’s supposed to be your entertainment for the evening.”

 

“ _ That _ would be insulting.”

 

Danya shut his eyes and focused on his breathing. He had always hated parties, but at least he had known how to comport himself when he was acting as merchandise for Milaine House. Now he wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be.

 

Danya couldn’t see Simon with his eyes shut, didn’t hear him move, but he could  _ feel _ him get closer. The very edge of the energy Simon gave off was just barely within reach, and goosebumps prickled down Danya’s spine as he eagerly drank it in. Danya could barely resist the magnetic pull of his body.

 

“I know you can hear me,” Simon murmured.

 

Danya sat up straight as his eyes flew open. He had almost forgotten himself. He tried to regain his composure, but he could feel his face heating.

 

“That was mean,” Simon’s friend said, but he was struggling not to laugh.

 

“Sorry.” Simon leant back in his chair, and Danya finally braved a glance at him. He had a broad build and a strong, angular face with thick eyebrows and dark brown hair cut military short. Danya could only meet the intensity of his deep brown eyes for a second before he had to drop his gaze again. “So, why did they sit you next to me?”

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Danya said to the tablecloth, “I wasn’t told. I’m sure they can move me somewhere else if it bothers you.”

 

Simon dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “No, I don’t really mind. It just seemed odd.”

 

Simon’s friend leant forward to look at Danya. He had darker skin and rich, chocolate hair that hung in curls just past his ears. “Can you do any magic?”

 

“I’m a Companion, sir. I can’t do much more than heat your drink.”

 

“It’s wine.”

 

“Chill your drink?”

 

“It’s  _ red _ wine. It’s meant to be served at room temperature.”

 

Danya shrugged. “Then I’m afraid I can do nothing for you, sir.”

 

“Hmm. So why are you practically naked, anyway?”

 

“ _ Hamish _ .” Simon shot his friend a pointed look.

 

“What? I’m sure you were wondering too.”

 

“I’d rather not know.”

 

“There’s no nobility in ignorance, Simon,” Hamish scolded playfully.

 

“If you find any nobility in any of this, you let me know.”

 

Something nudged Danya’s elbow, and he reflexively leant away from the touch as he turned to look at the sixty-something year old man who had sat down on his other side. He did not like the feel of this man at all. It reminded him of sticky plant sap that refused to wash off. The slow, sweeping look he gave Danya immediately betrayed the nature of his interest.

 

“I’ll have to thank our hosts for sitting me next to such a handsome young man,” the man said with a smile that showed too many teeth.

 

Danya knew his type. They were the ones who tried to seduce the boys into sneaking off with them for a quick moment at parties, but who were never serious buyers. The way Danya was dressed wouldn’t help in this situation. He looked like he was intended to be exactly that kind of entertainment.

 

Danya gave him a tight smile. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“I used to have a lot of fun when I was younger, but…” His hand found its way onto Danya’s thigh and stroked slowly upwards. Danya didn’t want the energy coming off of him. “It gets harder to maintain an active social life as you get older, you know?”

 

Danya tried to discreetly push the man’s hand away. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m a Companion.”

 

The man squeezed down on Danya’s thigh. “Don’t lie to me. You’re between me and another man who is not your master, and dressed like  _ that _ . I know what you are.”

 

“It’s the truth!” Danya leant so far back from the man that his shoulder bumped Simon’s “Why would I lie?”

 

“For goodness sake,” Simon cut in just as the man leant closer. “Could you please stop groping the slave at the dinner table, regardless of what you think he is or is not?”

 

The man’s face twisted in anger and Danya thought there was about to be a fight, but then the man’s hand pulled away from Danya’s thigh and he stood. “I’m going to put in a complaint and see what can be done about this. He is  _ lying _ .”

 

Simon watched the man leave before glancing back at Danya. “I hope you really were telling the truth.”

 

Danya let out a shaky breath as he did his best to shake the lingering aura of the man’s energy off. “I was. I apologise for the disruption, sir.”

 

“He raised a good point, though,” Hamish cut in. When Simon shot him a glare, he shrugged and explained. “He’s dressed like a whore and seated between two men he doesn’t belong to. Who  _ is _ his master?”

 

Danya cringed at the vulgarity, but it was true. He could hardly blame anyone for mistaking him for a bed slave when his attire had been borrowed from one.

 

“Ah… Captain Bell, I suppose?” Danya turned in his seat so that they could see the freshly tattooed crest just below his collarbone. “I’m a gift for him.”

 

Simon’s expression went hard and flat as he stared at the crest, and Danya knew with a sudden, terrifying certainty that he was looking at his new master. His new master, whose breathing had gone rough and heavy with barely contained anger.

 

“Oh, shit,” Hamish muttered.

 

“From who?” Simon asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

 

Danya licked his lips. He wanted to apologise, to ingratiate himself somehow, but he knew there was nothing he could do to change what was about to happen. “The hosts, sir.”

 

A moment later Simon was on his feet and Hamish swore as he grabbed Danya by the wrist and hurried to follow him to where their hosts sat at the head of the table.

 

“We need to talk,” Simon said to Mr Moore, his voice flat. “ _ Now _ .”

 

“Of course, Captain Bell,” Mr Moore said, confirming what Danya already knew. “Privately would be best, I think.”

 

Hamish kept a firm grip on Danya as they were led out of the communal areas, down a hall, and into a study. When their eyes met he gave Danya what had probably been intended as a reassuring smile, but it came out looking more like a grimace.

 

“You bought me a  _ slave _ ?” Simon shouted the moment the door was shut.

 

“Wine?” Mr Moore offered, his eyebrows lifting in question. “No? Yes, Captain, I bought you a slave. He may look a bit plain, but my understanding was that you preferred that. He has fine breeding.”

 

“I don’t care about his fucking—” Simon shook his head, covered his mouth, and paced. “This is very inconvenient for me. I can’t own a slave.”

 

“I understand and I apologise for the presumption,” Mr Moore said. “I will, of course, take full responsibility for his disposal.”

 

Simon stopped pacing. “Disposal?”

 

“He has your crest tattooed on him, Simon,” Hamish said softly. “He can’t be returned.”

 

Mr Moore held his hands up in pacification as Simon turned a murderous glare on him. “It’s not a problem, Captain. Why don’t you have some fun with him tonight, enjoy the rest of the evening, and I’ll have things taken care of in the morning?”

 

Simon turned abruptly and marched towards the door.

 

“Simon?” Hamish called out.

 

“I’ve changed my mind. Slave, come with me.”

 

Danya sent the other men a questioning glance.

 

“ _ Now, _ slave.”

 

Danya hurried to obey. Whether he was wanted or not, Simon was legally his master unless he relinquished that claim. Danya’s only hope now was that he would not.

 

Mr Moore tried to protest, but Simon brushed past him without acknowledgement and led Danya out of the room. He was close to bursting with fury that Danya was sure would be taken out on him. It wasn’t until they reached the stables that Danya realised Hamish was not with them.

 

The stable boy took one look at Simon and immediately made himself scarce. Danya wished he could do the same, but there was no escaping whatever Simon wished to do to let out his anger. 

 

Instead Simon ignored him, found his horse, and started roughly saddling the black mare to ride. 

 

“Um.” Danya took a step away from the wall and licked his lips. When Simon continued to ignore him, he spoke up. “I can be useful, sir.”

 

Simon looked at him over his horse’s back, his eyes sweeping down Danya’s body. “It’s clear what  _ use _ they planned for you to be.”

 

Danya fiddled with the tie that was the only thing holding the narrow strip of fabric around his hips in place. He swallowed hard. “Yes. I can take this off if you like, sir.”

 

Disgust overtook Simon’s anger and made Danya’s heart sink. “Just… shut up. Stop talking.”

 

Danya felt sick. If Simon wasn’t even attracted to men — and his disgust certainly suggested that — then Danya stood no chance. One of the other boys with their prettier looks and their greater charms might have managed it, but Danya was well aware he didn’t remotely have what it took to convince a man to compromise on his sexuality.

 

It was a relief when Hamish returned, the tube containing Danya’s papers in hand. He gave Danya a bop on the ass with it in passing before handing it over to Simon. “You had me starting to think I was going to have to restrain you in there. The poor idiot’s just really confused.”

 

“He bought me a  _ slave _ . What was that  _ poor idiot _ even trying to do?”

 

“Ingratiate himself, obviously. He dropped a decent amount of money fucking up this badly.”

 

“Well, that makes me feel a little better.”

 

Hamish flashed him a grin, but it quickly dropped away again. “You have to be more subtle, Simon. Men like him talk, and they’re not as toothless as they might seem.”

 

“He’s a coward. I  _ know _ that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.”

 

“Fortunately I think his head’s imbedded too far up his own ass for him to figure out what  _ really _ got you so angry. Kept saying he didn’t mean to imply anything about your sexual tastes. So now he seems to just think you’re desperately insecure. Like, you’re definitely going to fuck that slave, but nobody damn well better think you’re doing it by preference.”

 

“Ah, the military way.”

 

“Pretty much. Look, everything’s fine, okay? Just…” Hamish gave Danya a wary glance. “Play the part that’s expected of you.”

 

“I never thought we’d see the day when  _ you _ would lecture  _ me _ on subtlety.”

 

“Ha!”

 

“Mostly because I never thought you’d live this long.”

 

“Well, you have only yourself to blame for that.”

 

“We all make mistakes.”

 

Danya had been so focussed on Simon and Hamish that he hadn’t even noticed Baine approach until he tapped quietly against the stable doorway. 

 

Simon immediately turned and fixed him with a glare. “What do you want?”

 

Baine hesitated, sending an uncertain glance in Danya’s direction before turning back to Simon and taking a step forward. “My master wanted me to encourage you to let him take Danya back so that he can get rid of him, sir. He has other entertainment available that might be a better match for your, ah, tastes. If you like.”

 

“I didn’t ask what your master wanted and I don’t want to know.”

 

“Ah.” Baine took a step back, paused, then took a deep breath and stood up taller. “Well…  _ I _ wanted to ask if you would let me give Danya my robe. He’s underdressed for riding, sir.”

 

“He’s underdressed, period,” Simon commented, then waved a dismissive hand in their direction as he turned away. “Yes, that’s fine.”

 

Baine stripped out of his long, crimson dress robe and helped Danya into it, communicating with looks and touch the things they couldn’t say with words when they weren’t alone — apologies he didn’t owe and hopes that things would work out better than seemed possible just then. They had only known one another a few hours, but he already felt like a friend.

 

By the time Danya was dressed, the horses were ready and Simon was growing impatient. Danya gave Baine a nod of thanks, took a deep breath, and turned to face his increasingly uncertain new life.

 

When Danya tried to follow Hamish, the less volatile of the two, he gave Danya a shove on the back of the head and pointed him towards Simon. “Ride with your master, pup.”

 

For a moment Simon looked as though he might send him away as well, but then he reached down, grabbed Danya by the arm, and pulled him up behind himself with a single, painful tug.

 

Danya’s whole body prickled as the heat of Simon’s energy bled into him, almost too intense for a moment before he adjusted to the new sensation. He didn’t even notice he had wrapped his arms around Simon and leant into him until the horse started to move and he had to cling even tighter.

 

Danya had listened to Duran gush about his master late into the night so many times, but he’d never really felt like he understood. Now he was beginning to see what Duran had meant when he said that the touch of the right human would make even the most reluctant slave happy to serve.

 

Physical contact with other mages was good. It balanced the magic within him and kept him healthy and stable. But this… this was intoxicating. Danya wished he could put his hands on Simon’s bare skin, wished he could convince Simon to soften to him and offer in abundance what now passed between them only reluctantly. He craved that intensity, that joyous glow of strength and tranquility that emanated from Duran after a long night with his master.

 

Just as much, he wanted to be loved. To be useful, to be wanted, to have a place and purpose. To not have to wonder, every single day, how much longer his inadequacy would be tolerated. Simon had not wanted to let Mr Moore dispose of him, but had that merely been an act of stubborn spite? He clearly didn’t actually want to keep him.

 

Danya pressed in closer against Simon’s back. If this was all he would be allowed, then he would take from it what he could.

 

About ten minutes later the horses slowed, and Danya peeked around Simon’s back to see a sea of lights beyond tall gates that were already opening for them. A military base.

 

Hamish explained Danya’s presence to the men guarding the gate without delving into any of the discontent surrounding his acquisition and provided them his papers for confirmation. Simon waited, silent and pensive, until they were allowed in.

 

He seemed determined to ignore Danya’s very existence as he climbed off his horse and left Danya on her alone as he led her towards the stables. He might well have handed him over to the stable boy along with his horse if Hamish hadn’t suddenly appeared to help him down.

 

With no orders or even acknowledgement of his existence given to him, all Danya could do was hurry to follow behind Simon as he made his way through rows of tents. Simon didn’t so much as spare a glance back at him before suddenly disappearing inside of one of them.

 

Danya hesitated outside, unsure whether Simon expected him to follow or not. So far, he seemed to simply be hoping that if he pretended firmly enough that Danya did not exist, it would become reality.

 

Well, it wouldn’t. At least not without some action on his part. Mr Moore had offered to make that happen and Simon had firmly declined, so for now he would just have to deal with Danya’s continued existence. Danya pushed aside the flap and peered cautiously into the tent.

 

Simon was crouched in a corner, becoming mildly annoyed at a lamp as he fought to get it lit in the dark. He startled and glanced back when Danya sent up a ball of light to illuminate his work.

 

“Magelight,” Danya explained.

 

Simon grunted and returned his attention to the lamp, getting it lit a moment later, but the brief acknowledgement felt like a victory. With orders clearly not likely to be issued any time soon, Danya found a clear spot on the floor of the small tent and sat down.

 

At first he had thought Simon was testing him, seeing how long he could obey the command to stay quiet, but he was starting to realise Simon was just tired and perhaps a little overwhelmed. A man who had earned status rather than been born into it might not even understand the role of a Companion.

 

“I really can be useful, sir,” Danya said, and then when Simon gave him a tired look, hurried to add, “Not like that. Not if you don’t want. I can use my magic to clean and repair things, and I can do the same work as a human servant without pay. Or perhaps there are those who would pay for my company, if—”

 

Simon reached his hand under his jacket and pulled out a hidden knife.

 

Danya sat very still. Simon had told him to shut up, to stop talking, and he had disregarded that command. He had been given a chance to prove his obedience, and instead he had shown himself to be willful and annoying.

 

He knew he ought to fight back, to pull out every power he had kept hidden away, and… and… probably still die, but at least in a way that meant something. At least in a way that would make Simon see him as something more than an inconvenience before he spilled his blood, even if that something was a threat.

 

Instead all he could do was watch as Simon came closer, shut his eyes as he felt cold metal against his skin… and then pull back with a gasp as Simon suddenly pulled the knife towards himself and something fell into Danya’s lap.

 

As Simon went to return his knife to his bag, Danya stared down at the leather collar in his lap in disbelief. It had a clasp! He could have just… 

 

But of course, that wasn’t the point. The point was that he would need to do better if he expected Simon to tolerate him. The point was that Simon could kill him, and next time he might choose to.

 

There was still a tense silence between them when Hamish pushed through the tent flap a few minutes later and shoved a pile of bedding towards Danya before turning to Simon. “Figured your cot here’s not really big enough for two.”

 

Simon made a vague sound of acknowledgement and began stripping out of the formal attire he’d worn to the party.

 

Hamish sighed. “Look, I can take him tonight if you want. We’re close friends. Nobody would think it was strange for you to share him with me.”

 

“They’d find it odd that I let you have the first night with him.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Okay, scratch that idea.”

 

Simon tossed his dress shirt aside and stretched out his arms. He had a kind of lean musculature that had been hidden under the formal clothing. “Don’t worry about it. You were right before. Everything will be fine as long as we maintain a consistent image.”

 

“I’m always right, Simon. Always.”

 

Simon tossed his pants in the general direction of his bag, sat down on his cot, and turned his attention to Danya. “I expect your discretion. If anyone starts asking you questions about what we do or don’t do together, what kind of master I am, anything like that, that’s none of their business.”

 

“Of course not, sir. I know not to gossip.”

 

“Good. Now Hamish can fuck off and let us get some sleep. I’m more than ready for this day to be over.”

 

Hamish shot Danya a mock-offended look. “You see how he treats me now that he outranks me? No respect.”

 

“This is exactly the same amount of respect I have always had for you.”

 

“Wow. True, but wow.”

 

Simon pointed towards the tent flap. “Out.”

 

Hamish was laughing as he left, and Simon no longer looked quite so tense.

 

Danya waited for instruction, but when Simon lay down on his cot and blew out the lantern it became clear it wasn’t forthcoming. He quickly made his own cot out of the bedding Hamish had provided and settled in for the night.

 

It was impossible to sleep, of course. So much had happened, and it was all so bad — but not as bad as it  _ could _ have been, of course, because he was still alive. Simon had, for some reason, not wanted him killed. Would that last, though? Danya clearly was not wanted and Simon seemed to think owning him would be troublesome.

 

If everything truly was hopeless, Danya promised himself he would do everything he could to escape. He didn’t know if he could get the tracking chip out of his wrist, nor where he could run to if he did get away, but if he was going to die he needed it to be on his terms.

 

If they wouldn’t let him live as a slave, he wasn’t going to die one.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep came slowly and never quite felt like it claimed him, so it was a surprise when Danya woke to find the glow of morning light illuminating the now empty tent. Not only was Simon gone, but so too were his bag and the bedding he had slept on the night before.

 

Cold dread settled into Danya’s gut. Simon had left him. After a good night’s sleep, Simon had thought over his options and decided that simply abandoning his burden was the simplest way out of the situation. 

 

How long would it take for someone to find him? Would they treat him as a runaway, or would they believe that this situation had not been his choice?

 

Danya let out a shaky scoff. Of course the blame would be placed solely at his feet. Why would anybody even consider that Simon could be at fault when it was so much simpler to just punish Danya?

 

By the time Hamish poked his head into the tent, Danya had just about worked himself up into a state of panic. “Time to go, pup.”

 

As Danya hurried to follow Hamish outside and down now crowded rows of tents, he kept his head down and did his best to simply breathe. For now, for this moment, everything was okay. He hadn’t been abandoned — yet.

 

Simon waited to the side of the main gate on the back of his dark mare, the reins of Hamish’s paint gelding in his hand. His gaze paused and held on Danya, then jumped to Hamish with eyebrows raised in question.

 

Hamish shrugged. “He woke up alone in your tent. Of course he looks worried.”

 

Simon nodded, all interest immediately evaporating now that he knew Danya’s distress had been his own doing. Still, for a moment there he had looked at Danya, noticed he was upset, and  _ cared _ . Maybe only because he thought somebody had disrespected him by proxy by messing with his property, but it was  _ something _ .

 

Hamish did all the work of getting Danya up onto the horse behind Simon, because by that point Simon had decided to go back to pretending Danya didn’t exist. 

 

Danya shifted, trying to get into a position that didn’t feel awkward, but that was impossible. The entire situation was awkward. He tried resting his hands on his thighs, but quickly grabbed for Simon’s waist when the horse started moving.

 

It didn’t help that, the moment Danya was distracted, he found himself leaning into Simon much more closely than he needed to. Forcing himself to lean back again was physically uncomfortable.

 

Simon just felt so…  _ solid _ . As though even when being in proximity with him was the source of Danya’s current discomfort, getting closer to him could somehow nullify it. The energy of every living thing had a different feel to it, and Simon’s was more than anything one of strength and safety. Danya wanted to drown himself in it, but he felt like he could barely get his feet wet.

 

The area surrounding the camp was all farmland, fields of corn stretching out endless and identical. It came as almost a relief when it finally gave way to scrubby, untended grassland.

 

The first long wooden pole Danya saw, laying flat in a ditch along the side of the road, he assumed was simply a fallen tree. It was only when he saw a second, resting diagonally against a crest of rocks, that he noticed the torn wires rusting from the crossbeam attached to the top and realised what he was looking at: pre-war electricity poles. They had been left where they had fallen to be slowly reclaimed by nature.

 

Where Danya had grown up everything had either been cleaned up and restored or destroyed and cleared away, but out here nobody had ever bothered with such things. A car sat abandoned along the roadside, its doors removed for salvage long ago and grass growing along the top of it. Danya had always known the war had happened, of course, but seeing the reality of the past made it feel so much closer.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

Danya had been so distracted that Simon’s voice almost made him jump, and then it took him another moment to realise that Simon was addressing him, not Hamish. “No thank you, sir.”

 

He would need to eat eventually, but any energy he took in from a source other than Simon would only bring him further out of balance. Simon’s energy was slowly feeding into him, and he was hoping it would be enough to at least temporarily return him to a state of inner stability. He was already feeling calmer and a bit more able to resist the urge to cling to Simon.

 

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ when we’re alone together,” Simon said. “Or when it’s just us and Hamish. He doesn’t count as another person in regards to any rules I give you.”

 

“Wow, rude,” Hamish commented. “You see how rude he is to me, Danya? I don’t count as a person.”

 

“As  _ another _ person,” Simon clarified. “We’ve been friends so long that you’re basically an extension of myself.”

 

“Hmm…” Hamish leant forward in his saddle and tapped his chin. “Okay, that’s acceptable. We have known each other a fucking  _ long _ time. It’s been, mm…”

 

“Eight years.”

 

“Yup, eight years now.”

 

“Did you know one another before you joined the military?” Danya asked.

 

“Nah, we both joined up at sixteen, and that’s when we met,” Hamish explained. “Let me tell you, the military life didn’t really match up with my expectations.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Simon’s whole family has been in the military, but me? I just thought it would be the best way to fuck men.”

 

Simon shot Hamish a look. “Should you really be telling him this?”

 

“He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

 

“I won’t,” Danya confirmed. “We’re trained to respect the privacy of our masters and their associates. After all, many men obtain a slave specifically  _ because _ their desires are… unconventional.”

 

Simon scoffed. “Most of them just want to  _ unconventionally _ have sex with a thirteen year old.”

 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Hamish continued. “I was wrong. See, military camps are segregated by sex. You can’t even bring a female slave into a male military camp, so male slaves are used for  _ all _ purposes. Everyone knows this means that men have sex with male slaves, and that’s fine.  _ But _ —”

 

“And butts  _ are _ the crux of the issue.”

 

“Yes, thank you, Simon. But when a slave is involved, the assumption is that he’ll be on the receptive side of things and that makes it okay.”

 

Danya didn’t even realise that he’d made a small sound in the back of his throat until Hamish raised expectant eyebrows at him. “Well, I— that isn’t always the ways things go, sir. We do whatever our masters ask of us.”

 

He was thinking specifically of Duran and his master. They had tried doing things more conventionally for the first few months until Duran’s master had brought up the idea of switching their roles. They had fit together so much more comfortably that way that Duran had realised his master had wanted that from him all along, but had been too embarrassed to ask for it even from his own slave.

 

“Oh, yeah, I bet a good half of them are switching roles at least  _ sometimes _ , but it’s all part of this fiction we collectively maintain. We only have sex with men because women aren’t available. We only take a penetrative role because nobody would ever  _ want _ to be penetrated. And so forth. So here I am, sixteen years old and still waiting on a growth spurt, making it pretty fucking clear that I will suck any dick that gets within arms reach of me—”

 

“ _ Hamish _ ,” Simon cut in again. “Have you considered that he might not want to hear about this?”

 

“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all,” Danya assured him. “The better I understand the culture of military life, the more quickly I can adapt to my new circumstances.”

 

Also, although it would be improper to say so, he was enjoying the story. It wasn’t half as crude as some of the tales Duran had shared with he and Fanner, and it was nice to feel like Hamish liked him well enough to share such personal information.

 

“See? He’s fine,” Hamish said. “So anyway, I wasn’t very popular, and I was small, and I barely knew which end of a sword to hold. I honestly think I might not have survived. But then Simon, who has his family’s reputation, who was nearly full grown by the time he was sixteen, who’d been learning to fight since before he could walk… Fucking  _ Simon _ tells them to knock it off and focus on more important things, and they do! And he didn’t even want me to suck his dick.”

 

“You probably would have told the whole camp about it in vivid detail.”

 

“Not true! I only tell you that shit,” Hamish objected. “Anyway, that’s the story of how me and Simon became friends. I don’t get to tell the full version very often.”

 

“Do you really wish you had more opportunity to tell people about how much of an idiot you were?”

 

“In the past! That was  _ past _ me. Present me is completely fine with laughing at past me.”

 

“How about I punch you in the dick, and then in a few minutes time we can bond over how much of an asshole past me was?”

 

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause in a few minutes time present you won’t be an asshole.”

 

“I’m not an asshole.”

 

“Yeah?” Hamish turned back to look at Danya. “What do you think, pup? Is he an asshole?”

 

“Uh—” Danya’s eyes went wide and his arms tensed around Simon’s waist. “No, sir, of course not.”

 

Hamish scoffed. “I’m sure that’s  _ absolutely  _ your honest assessment. You don’t have to call me sir when nobody else is around either, by the way. We like to keep things casual, but you know. Gotta maintain a certain appearance in public.”

 

“I understand. Perception is important.” Danya was silent for a moment. “I apologise if this is too bold… but is the intention that I will be given to Hamish, in an informal sense? I realise I’m more to his... tastes.”

 

Hamish laughed. Simon didn’t. The silence between them stretched for just a little too long.

 

“No,” Simon said flatly. “The situation is more complicated than you understand, which is fine, because I intended it to be. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Simon, that’s not fair,” Hamish cut in. “Of course he’s going to worry about this stuff.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Danya said quickly. “Really. I only wanted to know so that I could behave appropriately. It’s not his job to worry about me.”

 

Simon was silent for a long moment before he finally let out a sigh. When he spoke, his voice was gentler this time. “I’m not going to give you to anyone else. Last night, when Hamish offered to take you, it was because he knew I wanted some time alone.”

 

“I’m sorry that I was disruptive.”

 

“You apologise too much.”

 

“I— will take that criticism on board.”

 

Hamish laughed and smoothed sweat-damp curls away from his face. “Ugh, it’s hot. Danya, aren’t you hot in that?”

 

Danya looked down at his robe. It covered just about everything other than his head, hands, and feet, and the fabric was fairly thick. “No. Mages are better at regulating their body temperature than humans.”

 

“That sounds nice,” Simon commented. “I’m already getting gross and sweaty.”

 

“Maybe I could…” Danya held his hand out in front of him and focussed on cold, wiggling his fingers as he felt heat being drawn out of them. He pressed his palm against the back of Simon’s neck.

 

Simon made a startled sound and jerked away from Danya’s touch, bringing his own hand up to cover his neck. “What the fuck was that?”

 

“His hand,” Hamish said.

 

Danya’s stomach clenched and he felt like he was going to be sick. He’d messed up, again, in the same way he  _ always _ did. He was too bold, too independent, too presumptuous. He was no different from Fanner, really — they both knew their faults, but neither of them could keep themselves from repeating them.

 

“Well, it felt weird,” Simon said. “Like ice.”

 

He needed to apologise. He could barely breathe. Even when he tried his best he kept slipping up because he was a fraud. He could never be what he pretended.

 

“Sorry,” Danya managed. He sounded like a child.

 

Simon rubbed his hand against the back of his neck again and twisted back to glance at Danya. “It’s fine. You just caught me by surprise.”

 

Danya’s throat ached. He wished he could bury his face against Simon’s back without it being weird.

 

“Here.” Simon reached his hand back and held it out for Danya. “Necks are a bit sensitive.”

 

Danya took his hand and for a moment all he could do was hold it in his own and savour the contact. He didn’t deserve it, but he did  _ need _ it. He took a steadily breath and slowly, carefully began to draw heat away from Simon’s skin.

 

“Huh,” Simon said, his fingers wiggling curiously against Danya’s. “It feels strange, but nice.”

 

Danya’s chest swelled with pride even though it was barely a compliment. It was the first thing he had done that Simon had even vaguely approved of.

 

“Let me feel,” Hamish said, reaching out for Danya’s other hand. 

 

Simon didn’t show any signs of objection, so Danya let him take it. He shut his eyes as he focussed on drawing heat away from the two men’s skin.

 

It wasn’t long before Simon swatted Hamish away and claimed Danya’s other hand for himself as well. He lifted his shirt and wrapped both of Danya’s arms back around him, pressing one of Danya’s palms against his stomach and the other against his chest.

 

A few minutes ago Danya would have been perfectly happy if Simon had told him he would be serving Hamish instead. Now he could feel the damp warmth of Simon’s bare skin under his fingers, the steady pulse of his heartbeat, and energy flowing strong between them, and he wanted nothing more than to wholly give himself over to this man and nobody else. It took almost more self control than he possessed to keep his hands still and focus on the task he had been given.

 

He would never be a perfect slave, or even a particularly good one, but perhaps if he could find enough moments like this where he could make himself useful he could at least be an  _ adequate _ one.

 

#

 

They kept a steady pace for most of the day, but as the sun sunk lower towards the horizon they pushed the horses harder to make it to their destination before dark. Empty scrub turned to farmer’s fields once more, and then gave way to streets packed more and more densely with crumbling, long abandoned pre-war houses. 

 

The sun was setting by the time they reached the centre of the city where tall, inhabited buildings still stood. There was nobody on the streets, but Danya could feel the press of human life at the edge of his mind.

 

“Lainton’s infested with vampires,” Hamish explained as they followed the road around a collapsed building. “Me and Simon are going to be working to fix that once we finish getting his new unit together, but first we have to do diplomatic stuff with the mayor.”

 

“Hopefully it goes better than our last diplomatic obligation.” Simon’s gaze traced the outline of the building next to them, his body straight and rigid.

 

Hamish laughed. “Well, it could hardly be  _ worse _ .”

 

“You have too much faith in me.”

 

Their destination was a beautiful old sandstone building that stood far shorter than the buildings surrounding it. The heavy columns along its front and the ornate carvings around the windows suggested it had been old even before the war. The newer buildings were far more utilitarian in their simplicity.

 

As servants took the horses away, a slightly portly older man stepped down from the stoop to greet them. His gaze held on Danya for a moment before cutting back to Simon as he forced a smile onto his face. “Welcome! I was starting to worry you might not make it before dark.”

 

Simon hoisted his bag over his shoulder and stepped towards the man. “I wouldn’t come within an hour’s ride of this place with only two men if I didn’t think I could make it inside before dark, Augustus.”

 

Augustus’ gaze cut back to Danya again. “Looks like you’ve picked up an extra.”

 

“He’s mine,” Simon said, some of the warmth fading from his voice. “I apologise for the lack of notice. I know mages can be a bit of a hazard in cities like these.”

 

Augustus dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand. “No worries, no worries. The building is secure.” He tapped one of the servants on the shoulder as she passed. “Lilly, could you make up a bed for the Captain’s slave in the servant’s quarters.”

 

“He’ll share my room, actually,” Simon interjected.

 

“Ah.” Augustus licked his lips, his gaze jumping between Simon and Danya. “Well, of course, yes, but the beds are a bit small for two I would think, so—”

 

“Make a cot for him on the floor, then.”

 

Augustus hesitated.

 

Before the tension could grow any further, Hamish stepped forward. “He’s a Companion, Augustus. Fine breeding. Not the sort you send off with the servants.”

 

“Ah, I apologise! I misunderstood the situation.” Augustus clapped his hands together. “I will make arrangements for a cot, of course.”

 

Simon gave a stoic nod of appreciation.

 

“Anyway, let’s get inside before it gets dark, shall we?” Augustus said as he lead them towards the main entrance. “I’ll have someone show you to your rooms. There’s hot water, so take your time getting ready for dinner. I’ll make sure there’s an extra seat made up for your slave.”

 

Simon and Hamish exchanged a look, but they didn’t comment. Having Danya sit at the table was an unconventional choice.

 

“Thank you,” Simon said.

 

The closest servant was given the job of showing them up the wide, ornate staircase. Simon thanked her stiffly once they were inside his room and then shut the door as Hamish flopped down on the bed.

 

“That was weird,” Hamish commented.

 

Simon made a sound of agreement and sat down on the edge of the bed, his brow pinched tight. He ran a hand over his hair. “Danya, go wash up for dinner.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Danya said. Ordinarily he should have been the last one to wash, but Simon clearly just wanted him out of the way.

 

“Just there and back,” Simon said as Danya’s hand closed around the doorknob. “Don’t go anywhere with anyone.”

 

Hamish rolled onto his side. “You don’t think anyone would mess with him, do you?”

 

“No,” Simon answered quickly. “Most likely Augustus just isn’t used to dealing with slaves and found the idea of me with a male slave uncomfortable. But it was weird and I don’t like it. So, Danya…”

 

Danya nodded. “There and back. Don’t go anywhere with anyone.”

 

“Good. You can go now.”

 

Despite Simon’s concern — or perhaps because of it — Danya felt light as he headed towards the washroom. Simon worried about him. Simon cared. Simon wanted to keep Danya with him enough to make it a point of insistence. Maybe it wasn’t the relationship Danya had always dreamt of having with his master, but it was  _ something _ . It was better than he deserved.

 

Danya could wash himself magically so he didn’t really  _ need _ to bathe, but he permitted himself the novelty of a few minutes splashing around in a bit of water before he set to properly cleaning himself and his robe. After a full day of riding with Simon, he felt fantastic. Not just properly balanced, but also stronger than he had ever felt before. It was hard to imagine how amazing he would feel if they ever connected deeply enough to have sex.

 

As soon as Danya was clean he headed back to Simon’s room. He paused outside and leant against the door, listening to the murmured conversation inside to determine whether it was okay to come back now or if they needed more time alone.

 

His back stiffened when he realised he was the topic of conversation.

 

“I can’t have a slave,” Simon said. He sounded tired. “You know I can’t. With everything we had planned…”

 

“I know, I know,” Hamish said. “What can we do about it, though?”

 

Simon let out a long sigh. “We’ll deal with it after we leave.”

 

Danya carefully stepped away from the door. His legs felt so weak he was worried he would trip over them and give himself away.  _ Deal with it _ . Deal with  _ him _ . He knew what that meant.

 

He could barely breathe as he headed back to the washroom and shut the door. Tears filled his eyes and ran hot down his cheeks. This wasn’t  _ fair _ . Everything was supposed to be okay now. 

 

Danya sat down on the floor and wrapped his arms around himself, digging his fingernails into his palms. He felt foolish and naive. He had let himself fall prey to childish fantasy. He was not wanted. He had never been and would never be wanted. Finally the day was about to arrive when he would be killed for it.

 

Danya wiped the tears away with the back of his sleeve. Well, not if he could help it. He needed to run away. 

 

If he could get hold of something sharp, he could try to cut the tracking chip out of his wrist. He knew it was in there somewhere. He couldn’t run away tonight, in this city infested with vampires, but he had enough magic on hand from a full day of contact with Simon that he could probably heal any damage he did to himself removing the chip and clean up the evidence. Once it was out, he would just have to hope he found an opportunity to escape.

 

And then… Danya felt tears starting to fill his eyes again and rubbed at them angrily. He knew he was going to die, one way or another. Because there was nowhere to go. He would head up into the woods hoping to find someone or something that would take him in and protect him — the fae, maybe, or whatever else had hidden itself away from human civilisation.

 

He wouldn’t. He would be caught or he would die alone in the woods. He knew that. His only other option was to willingly surrender to death, though, and he couldn’t do that. He was a poorly bred, defiant slave. An accident. A fraud. And he was not going to die quietly.

 

Danya took a deep breath, wiped his eyes again, and stood up. He’d been gone too long already. He needed to get back. He took another few deep breaths until they no longer came out shaky, and then headed for the door.

 

He could do this. He had been trained to play a role and not let his own feelings intrude upon it. Of course, he had never been very  _ good _ at that, but… he could do this.

 

He knocked, paused for a moment, and then entered Simon’s room. He couldn’t even look at him.

 

“We were about to go see where you’d gotten to,” Simon said. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed that Hamish was laying on.

 

Danya knew he should make an excuse, apologise, but his throat felt tight and his mind felt numb and then the silence had stretched too long. He sat down in the corner and pretended to be smoothing out his robe.

 

Simon stood and took a step towards him. “Did someone bother you?”

 

Danya swallowed hard and fought to keep his expression neutral. He had expected anger, but the faux concern hurt more. He wanted more than anything to give himself over to it, to believe in it, but he knew it wasn’t real.

 

He forced himself to look up at Simon. “No, sir. I didn’t see anyone else.”

 

Simon’s brow wrinkled as he held Danya’s gaze. Danya was the first to look away.

 

“Okay.” Simon turned away and went to get clean clothes from his bag. “Well, I’m going to go wash up.”

 

Hamish stood to follow Simon out of the room, but he paused in the doorway after Simon was gone and turned back to Danya. “You okay?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Danya said in his best steady, neutral tone. “I’m fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

Danya followed Simon and Hamish down the wide staircase, his back straight and his expression carefully blank. He had found his mask again now that he was calmer. He was an accessory, a pet, with no thoughts or feelings of his own, serving from his master’s shadow.

 

Augustus stood from his seat at the dining table as they entered the room, spreading his arms wide in greeting. “Captain Bell, Hamish, please, come, take a seat. It’ll just be the three of us — well —” His eyes caught on Danya. “The  _ four _ of us, I suppose, tonight. I wanted to get to know the two of you personally before we get into anything more.”

 

Simon gave him a nod of understanding. “That’s fine.”

 

Hamish shot him a look and stepped forward. “I think we prefer it, actually. We had a big party last night, and it all gets a bit much. We weren’t born or raised for any kind of fanciness.”

 

Simon guided Danya into the seat next to his with a hand on his shoulder, and Hamish sat down on Simon’s other side. Augustus reclaimed his seat opposite Simon.

 

“Oh, I don’t know, I think the Captain is adjusting to his new role quite nicely,” Augustus said with a gesture to Simon. “He has a slave now. That seems quite fancy.”

 

Simon clasped his hands on the table in front of him and leant back.

 

“He was a gift, actually,” Hamish supplied when it became clear Simon didn’t intend to join the conversation. “I’m sure you can understand that given the circumstances of our job such a gift isn’t ideal, but we appreciate the support the civilian population shows to us.”

 

“And I’m sure you’re getting much more support after Stowley, Captain,” Augustus said, shifting the conversation back onto Simon. “I heard you took command after your own captain was injured and flushed the whole city clean. Saved a lot of lives.”

 

“And lost one,” Simon added.

 

Augustus’ expression sombered. “That is the unfortunate reality of war.”

 

Simon gave a nod of thanks to a servant as she set a glass down in front of him and filled it with red wine. “Unfortunately. Still, we’ll all die one day. The best we can hope for is that when we do, it will mean something.”

 

Unless you were a slave, Danya supposed. Then your life meant nothing from the start and you could never hope to change that. 

 

Well, forget that. Danya would never be loved or wanted, but he could make sure he was remembered. But first… first he needed something sharp.

 

The knife he was given for eating carved through steak with ease, but Danya could only imagine the mess it would make of his wrist. Even if he could take it without being noticed, it would not be a practical tool for attempting surgery on himself.

 

He ate slowly, keeping an ear on the conversation as his eyes roamed the table in search of other options.

 

Simon was clearly a reluctant participant in the chatter, though he was never quite rude. Discovering that it wasn’t just himself who attracted such a lukewarm response from Simon might have been a comfort to Danya if it hadn’t been for the conversation he’d overheard.

 

As the evening wore on Simon seemed to tire more and more of the situation, and even Hamish was starting to struggle to compensate for him.

 

“So, Captain.” Augustus leant back from his empty plate and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Do you have a plan of approach yet? I’m sure you realise that Lainton is a bit more complex than Stowley.”

 

Simon swallowed the rest of the wine in his glass in one gulp. “Mmm… well, not yet. I’ll need to take a closer look at things once I get my unit together. The, um… the tunnels running under the city. They’ll complicate things.”

 

Danya felt out the curve of his glass as he took a sip of bitter wine. It would break easily into sharp shards, but they would be thin and brittle and hard to manage.

 

The servant refilled Simon’s glass and set the wine bottle down next to Danya with a solid thump. Perfect.

 

Danya had been trained to be graceful, well mannered, unobtrusive, to make every movement careful and deliberate. Nothing had ever felt so unnatural as swinging his elbow out and ‘accidentally’ knocking the wine bottle onto the floor. He was already out of his seat as it shattered and splashed the bottom of his robe with fragrant liquid.

 

Danya babbled apologies and made a show of trying to clean up the mess he’d made with his hands. It took Simon only seconds to pull him away, but by then he already had what he needed wrapped in a napkin and tucked into a pocket in his robe.

 

Augustus gave Danya a flat-lipped glare, then flicked a glance at the servant. “Suzie, please take the slave to get cleaned up and ask Michael for another bottle of wine for our guests.”

 

Simon waved him off, his fingers squeezing firmly around Danya’s upper arm. “No, no, I’ll take care of him.”

 

“It’s no trouble. There’s plenty more wine—”

 

“No, I’m starting to feel a bit tired anyway. Goodnight, Augustus.”

 

“Yes, we’ve had a bit of a long day of riding. Thank you for the lovely meal—” Hamish was saying as Simon led Danya out of the room by his arm. He didn’t speak as they headed back upstairs. 

 

He shut and locked the door of his room before flopping down heavily onto the bed. “I don’t trust that guy. There’s something… off about him.”

 

Danya had expected at least a mild scolding for the incident with the wine bottle, but it seemed to have been forgotten already. When he knelt down next to the bed to help Simon unlace his boots, Simon made no objections.

 

“I think I might be a little bit drunk,” Simon said carefully. “I didn’t mean to get drunk.”   
  


How much had he had? Two glasses of wine? For a human Simon’s size, that didn’t seem like nearly enough to cause significant inebriation. Though Danya himself hadn’t even finished a single glass, and he was a mage, and he had to admit his own head felt a little weird.

 

Simon stretched out his foot and wiggled his bare toes. The door to Hamish’s room shut down the hall. “I don’t like this.”

 

“I’ll stay awake and keep an eye on things,” Danya assured him, which was true, because he would be spending the night slicing his wrist apart just as soon as Simon got off to sleep.

 

“Good,” Simon mumbled, his eyes sliding shut. He took a deep breath in and let it out as a sigh.

 

It was hard to look at him like this. Too easy to see the man Danya wanted him to be, to simply forget about what he had heard and  _ hope _ . Yet… had he not seen the other side of him just a day ago? He could switch off any softness he possessed whenever it suited him.

 

Danya set Simon’s boots at the foot of the bed and knelt at his side. “Sir?”

 

“Mff,” was Simon’s response. He shifted but didn’t open his eyes.

 

“Would you like me to help you get changed for bed?”

 

“Mnh,” Simon said, already mostly asleep.

 

Danya let out a long breath. “Okay.”

 

This was ideal, really. Ordinarily the possibility of waking Simon would have been a major concern, but that clearly wouldn’t be an issue tonight. Danya would have plenty of time to do what he needed to without fear of discovery. So why did he feel so unsettled?

 

Danya shook his head. No matter. He couldn’t afford to surrender to doubt or hesitancy now. He had to make this count. He went to sit on the cot the servants had made for him on the other side of the small room and retrieved the glass from his pocket.

 

This wouldn’t be the first time he had intentionally hurt himself. He had first realised that what he knew of mending cloth could be extrapolated to flesh only a couple of years ago, and since he was not supposed to be powerful enough to do such things he had only been able to practise in secret. He had led a gentle enough life that hurting himself had been the only way to achieve that.

 

Even so, as he held the sharp edge of the glass over his skin, he was reluctant to press down. His only practise was with very superficial injuries. What if he accidentally caused himself major damage and found he didn’t know how to fix it?

 

Danya let out a self deprecating huff of laughter. He would rather bleed out on this floor by his own hand, knowing his master would have to face the stark reality of his death when he woke, than be taken away somewhere to be quietly euthanised. He pressed the edge of the glass down against his skin.

 

Blood beaded up along the shallow line immediately, but Danya ignored it and let it drip off the side of his wrist to soak into the fabric of his robe. A small amount of blood loss didn’t matter. He pressed more firmly for his next attempt, swallowing hard as the skin split apart. He pushed a little magic into trying to slow the bleeding now, but he didn’t really know what he was doing.

 

Danya pushed down against the cut with his fingers, hoping the tiny chip would just pop out. He knew it was in his wrist  _ somewhere _ , but he had never been able to feel out its location with his fingers so he suspected it was deeper. It wasn’t supposed to be easy to remove.

 

Danya winced as he deepened the cut. It stung. His hand felt unsteady and it was hard to see what he was doing when everything was covered with blood. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe, deep down, he had always known that even this first step of his plan had been futile. Maybe—

 

Danya froze.

 

For a moment he didn’t even know  _ why _ he froze, just a pure animal instinct telling him to be very still. Then he felt it. It felt like… like… energy, but not human, not mage, not animal. Like more and less than all of those. Powerful, like shrieking in Danya’s mind, but with a simplicity to it that no living thing possessed. And it was getting closer.

 

Danya’s eyes flicked to the door. Simon had locked it, but… this wasn’t a human stalking up upon them. This was a monster, this was… this was… Danya swallowed thickly, because suddenly he knew. This was a vampire. And that door would not stop it.

 

“Simon,” Danya hissed, knowing the vampire could surely hear him. He crawled over to Simon’s side and shook his shoulder with a bloody hand. He let out a frantic breath. His blood was everywhere. Was that what had lured the vampire here? “Simon, wake up.”

 

Simon’s body rocked when Danya shook it. He didn’t shift. He didn’t make a sound. He was still alive, still breathing, but he was far more deeply unconscious than any man had cause to be after only two glasses of wine.  _ I don’t like this _ , Simon had said as his senses had faded far too quickly. 

 

It wasn’t here for Danya. It was here for Simon, but it would take Danya too.

 

Danya eyed the glass still gripped in his hand. He was sorely tempted to plunge it into his wrist, to make sure he died before he could be taken. This almost felt like a divine punishment — he had attempted to escape a fate he had been heading towards since birth, and now he would be given over to a worse one.

 

The screaming, burning energy paused outside the door, and then a key turned in the lock and the door slowly pushed open.

 

Danya had expected the vampire to look as monstrous as it felt in his mind, but it just looked like… a woman. Her eyes were a little too dull, perhaps, her fingernails too sharp, but she didn’t look like an evil being that could tear him apart with her bare hands.

 

Her eyes tracked over the scene in the room, her gaze passing over the piece of glass in Danya’s hand and settling on the blood dripping from his fingertips. “What happened here, kitten?”

 

Her voice was human, but too flat. When she took a step forward, Danya stepped back and bumped into the bed. He held the glass out in front of him as a warning.

 

She held her hands up in pacification and smiled, showing fang. “There’s no sense in fighting me. Let me take care of him and then you can come with me. I won’t hurt you.”

 

Danya swallowed thickly. “You’ll just keep me prisoner and feed off of me.”

 

Her head quirked to the side. “You’re already a prisoner. You may as well be mine instead.”

 

“You’re a monster.”

 

“Oh, child, I am nothing but an undying echo of mankind's sins.” She tried to step forward again, but when Danya tensed she shrugged and sat down on the floor instead. “You run to his arms for fear of me. Has he really protected you so well?”

 

Her gaze followed a drop of blood as it dripped off of the point on Danya’s elbow. She already knew the answer to her question.

 

Danya’s fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. He was afraid he would drop the glass. “And I suppose you would do better?”

 

“Hmm.” She tilted her head from side to side, noncommittally. “Maybe. Perhaps there isn’t much room to do worse.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure.”

 

“The pleasant thing about vampires is that we’re never a disappointment. You know exactly what you’re getting.” She smiled at him, then let it slowly slip away when he didn’t respond. “The first vampire was a mother, you know.”

 

Without taking his eyes from the vampire, Danya sat down on the bed and reached back to shake Simon’s shoulder again. He didn’t stir.

 

“Just a simple peasant, caring for her young children while she waited for her husband to return from war,” the vampire continued. “But he never would, and eventually the war would find its way to her doorstep.”

 

Danya grabbed Simon by the front of his jacket to shake him again and felt a lump beneath his hand. Suddenly he remembered the knife, the one Simon had used to cut the collar from around his throat. Had it been silver? Danya had been too concerned about how sharp it had looked to notice. He left it where it was for now.

 

“She fought, of course, like any mother would, but what chance did she have against armed men? And oh, kitten, the things they did to those children as she lay dying. A monster being monstrous isn’t so scary, but a human who can be so many things choosing to tear apart a child, and enjoying it… that is the truest evil in this world.”

 

Danya tucked his hand behind him so that she’d stop eying the blood glistening on his fingertips. “Well, let’s not get competitive.”

 

She smiled again, revealing the full length of her fangs. “She was dead by the time the fae found her, but that doesn’t matter to them. They breathed magic into her and gave her one night, dusk until dawn, to find the men who had destroyed everything she loved and make them pay.”

 

“The fae made vampires?”

 

“Of course. The fae are the source of all magic. Yours and mine.”

 

Danya had known that, sort of, but he had never really considered the full implications. But this wasn’t the time to worry about it.

 

“She was supposed to return to dust at the first touch of dawn, but as she walked along the road she came across men strung up and left to die slow, painful deaths. One of them was her husband, the father of her children, and she realised she was not yet done getting her revenge. She cut him down and shared her power with him, and together they hid from the dawn and continued their retribution.”

 

Dawn. That was a handy reminder. Vampires hated light and Danya could make light. Just how bright could he make it? Would it be enough to debilitate her? “Are you going to tell me that you were that woman?”

 

She laughed. “No, kitten, I’m not that old. I was a mother, though.”

 

If he could disable her just for a minute and get the knife… Was there a chance?

 

“I had a little girl. She was a mage, like you.”

 

“You’re not a mage.” She didn’t look like one, and mages couldn’t be turned into vampires.

 

“I’m not.  _ She _ was. I raised her. I was her mother.”

 

“You’re right. Sorry.”

 

“We kept hidden away, didn’t bother anybody, but of course they found us in the end. They held me down and one man picked up the big rock we used to prop open the back door. He struck her in the head three times, until she stopped twitching.”

 

Danya cringed. Regardless of what she was now, he couldn’t help but feel bad for what she’d been through. “I’m sorry.”   
  
“Oh, kitten, don’t be sad for me. Even I’m not sad for me anymore. I simply hope that you will understand now how senseless it is to fight me. True evil comes not from monsters like me, but from men like the one who sleeps behind you. I won’t even make him suffer. He will simply never wake up.”

 

“Very noble of you. And I suppose  _ you _ would never kill an innocent child?”

 

She managed to maintain her sober expressed for a few more seconds, and then burst out laughing. She was still snickering quietly as she pushed herself to her feet. “Of course I would. They’re delicious. Now, kitten, you’re not really going to make me waste more of your precious blood, are you?”

 

Danya scooted back on the bed and felt for the knife under the guise of shaking Simon again. He had also been hoping that Simon might wake up if he kept the vampire talking long enough, but he was still completely unresponsive. Was Danya  _ really _ going to have to try to fight a vampire? “Ah… Augustus. The mayor. Are you working with him?”

 

“No.” She took a step forward, then stopped and tilted her head to the side in consideration. “Well, I was. But now he’s dead. So, technically, no.”

 

“You killed him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Danya’s fingers crept under Simon’s jacket and wrapped around the hilt of the knife. “But… why?”

 

“Because I’m a vampire and he wasn’t useful anymore? You’re both shockingly naive.”

 

“Were any of the things you just told me actually true?”

 

“Oh, no, every word of that was true. There’s something about being undead that really kills the creative spirit. But if it’s not going to convince you to come without a fight, I might as well stop pretending to care about any of it. It was a long shot, anyway. Killing and eating people on a regular basis makes it particularly difficult to present yourself as a sympathetic figure.”

 

“Yes. Also, you feel like a monster in my head.”

 

“Ah. That can’t be helping. Oh well.” She stepped closer again. “Now, what’s the least amount of harm I can do to you to convince you to stop trying to fight me? Maybe a broken leg?”

 

Danya was silent, counting silently, trying to figure out a rhythm of motion. She moved again and this time, so did he.

 

His eyes were already shut by the time light burst forth from him, so bright that it hurt even his eyes behind his lids. In the same motion he pulled the knife free from its sheath beneath Simon’s jacket and lunged forward.

 

She was on the floor. He could feel the general shape of her in his mind, but it wasn’t until he got close that he discovered where the different parts of her were. Her pointed fingernails, for instance, were clawing at his throat.

 

She was definitely weakened and disorientated, though. Danya ignored the attack, the feeling of his own blood dampening his robe, and let his mind open. He found the core of her deep in her chest, lifted the knife, and plunged it down. The point of his knife made contact with a rib. He wrenched it free, tried again, and...

 

The chaotic pit of her dark energy fell away so abruptly that it left Danya disorientated, and it was a few seconds before he realised it was safe to let his light fade out. She was dead. Or, well… deader. Danya might have thrown up if he’d had any energy left for it. He’d killed a vampire. He collapsed beside her.

 

He patted at his throat, but his fingers felt too numb to figure out how badly he was injured. Oh well. Maybe he was bleeding to death. Maybe he wasn’t. Danya wasn’t sure he cared at this point.

 

Danya shut his eyes. It felt like only a moment passed, but when he opened them again the blood on his hand felt flaky and dry. He was so tired. He tried to move. Gave up. Shut his eyes again.

 

It was thirst that dragged him out of unconsciousness. He was  _ so _ thirsty. He groaned as he pushed himself up. His whole body stung and ached and itched. He felt filthy and frail. The vampire lay on her back on the floor, Simon’s knife still sticking out of her chest. The whole room was a bloody mess. Even Simon was smeared with it.

 

“Simon,” Danya tried, but it came out as a croak. He swallowed and tried again. “Simon?”

 

Simon shifted, his face pinching up, but his eyes stayed shut.

 

“Simon, you have to wake up.” Danya’s voice sounded broken and desperate even to his own ears. “ _ Please. _ ”

 

Simon’s eyes squinted open, his face tightened as he sniffed the air, and then he sat up abruptly. His expression was completely blank as he surveyed the room. “What…”

 

“Vampire,” Danya whispered, his shoulders hunching down. “I think Augustus drugged you.”

 

Simon examined a bloody handprint Danya had left on the shoulder of his coat when he’d been trying to wake him. He seemed to be having trouble processing his surroundings. Suddenly, his expression shifted into something more alert. “Hamish.”

 

Danya let out a sigh as he watched Simon run for the door. He shut his eyes and rested his chin on his knees.

 

“What the fuck,” he heard a few moments later, Hamish’s voice.

 

“I woke up to this,” Simon said. “Danya thinks Augustus drugged us, and I’d say he’s right about that if we slept through this, but…”

 

“Danya, what the fuck?”

 

“I’m thirsty,” Danya said.

 

Danya had been expecting Hamish to tend him, but it was Simon who knelt down in front of him with a bottle of water and helped him drink. His fingers felt warm against Danya’s jaw.

 

“You did this?” Simon asked as Hamish toed at the vampire’s body.

 

Danya nodded. He could hardly deny it at this point. “They don’t like light, and I found your knife, so…”

 

“And this?” Hamish held up the piece of broken glass and Danya’s stomach dropped. “From the wine bottle he broke. What were you going to do with it before she joined the party?”

 

Danya dropped his gaze. His throat felt so tight he could hardly breathe. There was no good explanation for this.

 

“Were you going to hurt Simon?” Hamish pressed.

 

“No!” Danya insisted, then lifted his arm to cover his mouth as he was overtaken by a coughing fit. He didn’t realise what he’d done until Simon’s hand wrapped around his forearm and flipped his wrist over, revealing the damage as his sleeve sagged down.

 

For a moment Simon just stared at it, his fingers digging into Danya’s skin. Then he sighed, let go, and turned towards Hamish. “We have to get out of here.”

 

Hamish grimaced. “At night? In this city?”

 

“If we ride hard, we can be out of the city in twenty minutes. This place is compromised. We don’t know what’ll show up if we wait around and we’re not equipped to fight off a siege.”

 

Hamish groaned and buried his face in his hands as he paced across the room. “Fine. Let me go get my boots on.”

 

Simon stood up, walked over to the vampire’s body, and pulled the knife out of her chest. His gaze flicked to Danya. “You’re going to tell me everything that happened later. In detail.”

 

Danya nodded so quickly it made its head spin.

 

Simon sat down on the bed and started pulling his boots on. “As much as I appreciate not being dead, this is…”

 

“I know,” Danya croaked.

 

“Yeah,” Hamish said from the doorway. “Don’t get me wrong. Not dying is great! I just don’t like feeling like I’ve been caught by surprise. I like knowing where I stand with people, you know?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Danya murmured.

 

“Oh, don’t you give me that subservient shit now. Simon, you ready?”

 

“Yeah. Danya, can you stand?”

 

“Yes,” Danya said, tried to get up, and then promptly fell back down on his ass.

 

Without comment, Simon handed his knife to Hamish and then bent down and lifted Danya into his arms.

 

“Oh, yay, a knife,” Hamish said, waving it in front of him, “I’m just going to take a vampire on with nothing but this. That’ll work out well for us.”

 

“Danya managed,” Simon pointed out.

 

“Oh, yeah, definitely no magic involved in that. He just fucking wrestled her and won. Anyone could do it. No problem.”

 

Danya was as close as he could get to Simon, but he wanted to be closer. To crawl up inside him and make a home. He’d never felt like this before — too drained to even be out of balance, like a set of scales with nothing on them. He wanted to feast on Simon’s energy, but it didn’t work like that. He could only take in that which Simon’s body naturally released, like heat coming off of a fire. Or heat coming off of Simon’s body, which also felt nice just then.

 

The whole place was dark and quiet as they headed out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the building.

 

Simon let out a sigh of relief when they found the horses snoozing happily in the stables as though nothing at all had happened. He set Danya down carefully against the stable wall while he and Hamish prepared to ride.

 

Hamish let out a frustrated sigh. “This is suicide. Not that I think we have a non-suicidal option here, but you know we can’t ride fast enough to outpace a vampire when we can’t see a damn thing. We either go slow and get caught, or go fast, lame a horse, and then get caught.”

 

“I can make light,” Danya offered. “Magelight.”

 

Hamish gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t look like you’re up for anything besides passing out.”

 

“Judging him by what he looks like hasn’t worked out so far,” Simon pointed out. “Do you think you’re up for it, Danya?”

 

Danya couldn’t summon something strong enough to disable a vampire like he had before, but something just bright enough to illuminate the path ahead of them? That was second nature to him. 

 

Danya nodded. “I think so, but… only just. I might pass out afterwards.”

 

“Once we’re out of here, feel free.” Simon mounted his horse and waved his hand at Hamish. “Lift him up in front of me.”

 

Danya tried to help, but his body felt like dead weight. Fortunately Hamish was strong enough to do all the work on his own, and a couple of moments later Danya was leaning back against the warmth of Simon’s chest with Simon’s arm wrapped securely around him.

 

While Hamish mounted his own horse, Danya took a deep breath and focussed on light. His body resisted, reluctant to relinquish the little energy he had left, but with a little push — and a few more seconds of slowly drawing in energy from Simon’s proximity — it finally surrendered and a small ball of light flew out to hover in front of them. And then they were moving.

 

For the first couple of minutes it was alarming to be out in front with nothing to hold onto, but Simon’s hold on him was secure and Danya didn’t have any energy to spare on panic.

 

Still, he was shaking. Why was he shaking? Why did his fingers feel stiff and numb? Why did Simon feel so warm? Was he… cold? Danya didn’t  _ get _ cold. Yet… that was definitely what was happening to his body just then. 

 

He had so little energy to spare that everything non-vital was shutting down. If he hadn’t been pulling in that little bit from Simon, he suspected he would have been completely tapped out already. Even with it, though, he was struggling more and more to maintain his focus. The light illuminating the path ahead of them flickered and Danya bit down hard on his lip. They could not afford for him to fail now.

 

A couple of times Danya felt the distant brush of a vampire’s presence against his mind, simultaneously a dangerous distraction and a powerful motivation not to slip up. 

 

His whole body was starting to feel weird; numb and tingly. He started to feel nauseous and had to shut his eyes. Light, light, light, he reminded himself. He just needed to do this, this  _ one thing _ . Did his heart always beat this hard?

 

“Danya,” Simon murmured against Danya’s head, and Danya realised the horse had slowed down. “You can stop now. We’re out.”

 

Danya let go with a sigh and the light blinked out. His head spun and he nearly passed out then and there. But… “Don’t leave me behind.”

 

“What?”

  
  
“Please don’t leave me.” Danya’s voice shook. He would have started crying if he’d had the energy for it. He was  _ so tired _ .

 

“Shh, calm down. We’re safe now.”

 

A sad whimper made its way out of Danya’s throat.

 

“You’re fine,” Simon insisted. “You can rest now. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

 

Danya didn’t know if that was the truth, but it was what he needed to hear just then. His body relaxed as he surrendered to the fuzz filling his brain.


	5. Chapter 5

Sometime later Danya was lifted off the horse and momentarily handed over to Hamish, but after a few moments of weak, half-awake objections he found himself pressed back against Simon’s chest.

 

“Stopping for the night,” Simon explained, his voice a gruff murmur. 

 

They were sitting on the ground. Behind them, a half collapsed structure loomed in the darkness and blocked the wind. Danya drifted back to sleep to the quiet sounds of Hamish setting up their camp.

 

The next time Danya woke up, it was light out and Simon was trying to gently shift Danya off of him. Danya made a sound of objection and clung tighter.

 

Simon sighed — not angry, just tired. “Come on, Danya. I need to pee.”

 

Every instinct Danya had was telling him not to let go, but after a few seconds of resistance he woke up enough to remember his training. Reluctantly, he released Simon.

 

Danya felt… well, awful. Absolutely rotten. But also not as bad as he probably ought to have, considering everything. He was still sore and low on energy, but he was in balance. It was an ordered and manageable exhaustion.

 

They’d set up their little camp behind an old, mostly collapsed barn in a field and let the horses loose to graze.

 

Hamish sat a short distance away, blinking sleepily in the dawn light. When he caught Danya watching him, he gave him a tight smile. It was hard to tell if he was cross or just tired.

 

Simon came back from relieving himself on the barn and let Danya rest his head on his lap. He was silent for so long that Danya was starting to drift back to sleep before he finally spoke. “So. I think we should talk.”

 

Danya pressed his face against Simon’s thigh. He didn’t want to talk, preferably ever. He just wanted to pretend that he’d done nothing wrong and everything would be fine.

 

Simon took hold of Danya’s hand and gently tugged his sleeve down, revealing the mess he’d made of his wrist. “Starting with this, I think.”

 

The best thing Danya could do right now was be cooperative and obedient, but his throat had closed up and all he wanted to do was hide. There was no way out of this situation that he could see. He had been caught doing something very long, and he treasured every second he could spend delaying the consequences.

 

“Danya,” Simon said, his tone a gentle warning. “Talk to me. Why did you try to kill yourself?”

 

For a moment, Danya’s breathing stopped. Did he really think…? Could Danya could pass this off as something other than what it was? Something  _ slightly _ more forgivable? Attempting to kill himself would have been a terrible transgression against his master, but at least it didn’t carry fatal legally guaranteed consequences.

 

Then his eyes met Hamish’s, and he knew there was no chance. Hamish knew the truth.

 

“His tracking chip’s in that wrist, Simon.”

 

There was a moment of silence from Simon, and then, “Ah.”

 

“It’s implanted in the bone, though. I’m guessing he didn’t know that.”

 

Danya shrunk in on himself further. He had not known that. He had been sedated when they had put it in before he left the nursery for Milaine House. He’d never even stood a chance of escaping.

 

“Okay, so that’s not quite what I thought had happened, but the question still stands,” Simon said. “Why?”

 

Danya wanted to cry. What could he even  _ say _ ? It had always been stupid and hopeless and desperate.

 

“I know I wasn’t very nice to you,” Simon persisted, “but what were you even going to do? Where was there for you to go?”

 

“I knew I was going to die, sir,” Danya said, his voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper. He was surprised Simon hadn’t pushed him away yet. “I just wanted to be the one to make the choice.”

 

“So it was a suicide attempt, in the end. Do you  _ want _ to die?”

 

“No!” Danya pushed himself up so that he could look at Simon, but immediately dropped his gaze. He didn’t want Simon to think that he  _ wanted _ this. “If I’m going to die, I’d rather die  _ doing _ something than be quietly euthanized. I know that’s bad. It’s not how I’m supposed to be. But... can’t you at least understand it?”

 

“Yes,” Simon said with such sincerity that now Danya really was crying. “But I never said I was going to do that.”

 

Danya sniffed and angrily rubbed the moisture away from his eyes. “Not to  _ me _ , but I heard the two of you talking last night. About how you were going to deal with me after we were done with the dinner. I know what that means.”

 

“Well the funny thing is you don’t, because that isn’t what I meant.”

 

“Yeah,” Hamish interjected. “We just meant like, we were gonna deal with one thing at a time. With you in the picture we’ll have to rethink our approach to a few things. That’s all.”

 

Danya wrapped his arms around his chest and his head dropped forward. What had he done? He would have been  _ fine _ , but he’d made a hasty assumption and done something that they were obligated to hand him in for. A good slave wouldn’t have had a problem, but Danya was not a good slave. He had never been a good slave. At least he would deserve this. He was shaking.

 

“He’s still not going to have you euthanized, you know,” Hamish said.

 

“Seriously? Is that what’s wrong? Stop it. Stop thinking that.”

 

Danya’s voice shook as he spoke. “But  _ legally _ , you—”

 

“I don’t give a shit.”

 

Danya looked between Simon and Hamish, confused. He’d attempted to run away. Punishment wasn’t  _ optional _ . He needed to be made an example of.

 

“We should just tell him,” Hamish said. “At this point, I think it’ll cause less problems if we’re all on the same page. Besides, he’s clearly not the type to throw away self preservation for the sake of following rules.”

 

“You could also say he’s not the type to make sensible, carefully considered decisions.” Simon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair. You’re right.”

 

“We’re not really all that on board with slavery being a thing,” Hamish explained. “I mean, owning another person and being allowed to do anything you want to them is pretty fucked up, right?”

 

He looked like he expected a response, so Danya shrugged. What could he say? As much as he resented his own circumstances at times and as sick as it made him to think about some of the things he had witnessed, this system had been all he’d ever known. He had never truly questioned it.

 

“You thought I was going to have you killed just because you were an inconvenience,” Simon reminded him. “You seemed to think that was pretty unfair.”

 

Danya wanted to cry again and he didn’t really know why. This was… better? Yes, much better. Obviously. He just didn’t know what to do with it.

 

“And people do way worse things to slaves than that,” Hamish added. “Like… really fucked up things.”

 

“I know,” Danya said so quietly it was barely audible. He wanted to cuddle back up to Simon, but he was more uncertain of where they stood with one another than ever.

 

“I realise this is a lot to take in all at once,” Simon said. “All I need from you for now is a promise that you won’t tell anybody about this. That wouldn’t end well for any of us, including you.”

 

“Of course not, sir,” Danya said, wide-eyed. “I know my behaviour has been, ah — erratic — but I promise that you have my loyalty. I will not let you down again, sir.”

 

“I don’t think you…” Simon made a face, shook his head, and sighed. “Enough with the ‘sir’ thing, okay? Save it for when we’re in public.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Or when you want to annoy him by using it sarcastically,” Hamish added. “He loves that.”

 

Danya offered him a meek smile. “I’ll remember that, sir.”

 

Hamish grinned. “That’s my boy.”

 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Simon said pointedly. “Slavery. We’re… not so fond.”

 

Hamish made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, like that was an understatement.

 

“I’ve always found the whole thing a bit uncomfortable, I suppose, but it wasn’t until I joined the military that I realised the things that went on were much worse than simply using people for unpaid labour,” Simon continued. “So now that I have the opportunity to lead my own unit, I’m trying to put together a group of people who see the issue the same way I do.”

 

“Which is hard as fuck when openly expressing those kinds of ideas is treason,” Hamish added. 

 

Simon inclined his head in agreement. “We were going to say that nobody in the unit was allowed to have slaves with them for practical purposes to explain why it might look like we’re selecting against slave owners. Now that I have you, that doesn’t really work anymore. That was the problem we were discussing.”

 

“Which is just a dumb logistical thing, really,” Hamish said. “I think I figured out a way to make things work, anyway. Simon, do you know Liam Roy?”

 

“Yes…” Simon said cautiously.

 

“He has a slave. If we bring him on board, it won’t look like we’re selecting against slave owners.”

 

“I’m not sure he and I would see eye to eye on things.”

 

“I’ve heard some things. I’ll look into it,” Hamish said.

 

“Fine. Anyway, Danya, I think it’s time we heard the full story of what happened with this vampire.”

 

Danya winced. He had been hoping they had forgotten about that, as unlikely as that seemed. He took a steadying breath and started in on the story.

 

He told them what had happened, including some parts that he perhaps oughtn’t have — that he was able to feel the vampire with his mind and that the magelight he’d used to weaken her had been a bit more powerful than an average Companion could have managed. They didn’t seem to think anything of either of those things. He got the impression that they weren’t particularly familiar with the rules around Companion classification, nor how strict they were.

 

“If you need to write a report about what happened, it might be better if, ah — well, if you don’t mind lying—”

 

Simon raised his eyebrows in question.

 

“Sir —  _ Simon _ — I took your knife from you and used it to kill. It won’t matter that the thing I killed was a vampire or that doing so likely saved all of our lives. It would perhaps be better if you told people that you woke up as the vampire was attacking me and managed to surprise it.”

 

“You deserve the credit for such a damn fine kill, but,” Simon shrugged, “you’re right that nobody else is likely to appreciate it. Still... I want you to know that we  _ do _ . You did save our lives. We owe you for that.”

 

“Yeah, kid. We’ll happily lie our asses off to keep you safe, but it sucks that we have to,” Hamish added. “Anyone else would get a medal for pulling off what you did.”

 

“Oh, fuck, I hope they don’t try to give  _ me _ a medal for this.” Simon made a face. “I’ll have to work on making it sound as unimpressive as possible.”

 

“I mean, we did both manage to let ourselves get drugged, so I don’t there there’s much risk of anybody being too wildly impressed.”

 

“I can’t argue with that. The completely honest version of this story is so shameful that I should be glad I won’t have to tell it to anyone who has the power to demote me. I thought I had not trusting people down to an art, but here we are.”

 

Hamish gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Sometimes a weird mayor drugs you and tries to feed you to a vampire and there’s just nothing you can do about it.”

 

“Joining the military was a mistake.”

 

“Well, at least it was your own stupid decision,” Hamish said with a significant look in Danya’s direction.

 

“Hmm.” Simon’s gaze swept over Danya and his frown deepened. “You’re a mess.”

 

Danya made a face and tried to brush some dirt off of his robe, but there was no salvaging it. He was indeed a mess. “Sorry. Normally I would use magic, but…”

 

“Well, fortunately us humans have invented our own primitive ways to clean ourselves. Come here.”

 

As Danya crawled over to sit in front of him, Simon got a clean rag out of his bag and dampened it with water from his canteen. He tilted Danya’s chin up with a gentle tap of one calloused finger and then began carefully dabbing away the blood that had dried all over Danya’s neck.

 

Danya was grateful for his robe. Sitting with his knees up, it was easy to hide exactly what kind of effect Simon’s touch was having on him. Danya inhaled sharply as Simon’s finger brushed his jaw and Simon murmured an apology, thinking he’d hurt him.

 

Hamish caught Danya’s eye and gave him a knowing grin as he packed up the camp.  _ He _ wasn’t fooled.

 

The mood sobered as Simon moved on to Danya’s wrist. He spent a moment just holding Danya’s arm, examining the cuts. “Suicide may not have been your intent, but doing this — you could have killed yourself, you know?”

 

Danya dipped his head and didn’t respond. He  _ did _ know. He hadn’t thought it mattered much at the time.

 

Simon sighed and started wiping the blood off. “Anyway, you’ll need to keep this bandaged until it heals. Just about anyone in a military camp could tell at a glance that a vampire didn’t do this.”

 

“And if anyone does see it, just pretend it’s part of some weird fetish Simon has,” Hamish cut in. “Because somehow  _ that’s _ fine.”

 

“Oh, brilliant. My reputation will be in tatters, but that’ll probably be a good thing because at least nobody will suspect I have any sympathy for slaves. Which would, of course, be unforgivable.”

 

“I’ll be careful,” Danya murmured as Simon started bandaging his wrist.

 

“Good.” Simon pinned the end of the bandage in place. “We’d best get going, then. The direction we’re headed in is much safer, but I’d like to avoid another night under the stars all the same. You never really know what might be out there.”

 

“Pfft,” Hamish said as he led Simon’s horse over. “I joined the military hoping to find out, and so far the answer’s been vampires and jack shit. Boring.”

 

“Oh, shut up. You already told him why you  _ really _ joined the military.”

 

“I can have more than one motivation for doing something! I’m a complex person, Simon.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

Hamish shook his head. “You’re so hurtful, Simon.”

 

“Anyway,” Simon said as he pushed himself to his feet, “there’s a reason we stick to well travelled paths. All that, out there…” he gazed towards the mountains, away from the road, “that belongs to the fae. I don’t really know what that means and I don’t think I want to find out.”

 

“Because you’re  _ boring _ ,” Hamish said as he handed the reins over. “We’re probably going to die young one way or another. Sounds like a fun way to go.”

 

“I’d rather die doing something that actually matters.”

 

Hamish let out a bark of laughter. “Well, you let me know when you find something like that.”

 

“I—” Danya’s throat closed up when both pairs of eyes were suddenly on him. He swallowed and made himself keep going. “I would rather not die.”

 

Simon gave him a kind smile. “Then I suppose I shall have to live too. Hamish, help me get him up on the horse.”

 

#

 

It was late afternoon by the time they finally started seeing signs of civilisation again, starting with a herd of cows grazing lazily before shifting into endless fields of crops.

 

“Mandarins!” Hamish announced as the road led them through endless rows of short, bushy trees, and a moment later he was off his horse and climbing a low fence.

 

“We might as well take a break,” Simon said as he watched Hamish raid the orchard. He climbed off the horse before helping Danya down as well.

 

Danya’s legs felt stiff and most of his body stung or ached, but standing next to Simon along the side of the road he felt strangely at peace. Things had been difficult over the last few days, and once they reached the camp they would probably become hectic again, but in this small moment they were okay.

 

“I wanted to apologise to you for how I treated you,” Simon said. His eyes were on Hamish, who had made a pouch out of his shirt that he was bundling mandarins into. “I was angry and I didn’t know what to do, and I handled the situation poorly.”

 

Danya didn’t know what to say. He didn’t quite understand the role Simon now expected him to take. “It’s okay.”

 

“It’s really not. I know I scared you with that knife.”

 

“Ah.” Danya nudged a rock on the dirt road with the toe of his shoe. “I understood why you did it. I needed to be reminded not to be such a nuisance.”

 

Simon shook his head and looked away. “No, it wasn’t like that. I just…” He sighed. “They’d collared you like an animal. I couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d intended for you, and then you were saying—” Simon scratched his fingers through his hair. “Anyway, I just wanted to get it off.”

 

“It had a clasp,” Danya pointed out. He hoped it didn’t sound too much like an admonishment.

 

Simon winced. “Yeah, that occurred to me when I was like half way towards you with a knife in my hand, but I thought if I backed down you might realise what was  _ really _ going on with me. It was dumb. I know that. Hamish is better at dealing with people.”

 

“He does seem to have a diplomatic way about him.”   
  
Simon made a sound of agreement. “Listen, when we get back to camp, we can arrange for you to stay with him instead. Everyone knows I’m not very social so it wouldn’t look suspicious.”

 

“Okay,” Danya said carefully. He did his best to keep his expression and tone neutral, but his heart was hammering hard in his chest and he felt sick and so  _ tired _ . Just as he was starting to feel like the two of them might have something between them, Simon was pushing him away.

 

“What’s up? You don’t sound thrilled with the idea.”

 

“I am happy to go wherever is most convenient for you.” Which was a damned lie. He belonged to Simon and he wanted to be as close to Simon as he was permitted, but he knew better than to say so.

 

Simon sighed. “Danya, please just be straightforward and honest with me.”

 

Danya grimaced and looked away. He doubted Simon would like the truth, but he had insisted upon it. “I’m  _ yours _ , not Hamish’s. I will go wherever you ask, but I would prefer to stay with my master.”

 

Simon groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “Danya…”

 

Danya clenched his hands in his robe and looked down at the ground. He had known this wouldn’t be well received, but what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t force his feelings on the matter to change.

 

Simon made a sound of frustration, paced a couple of steps away, and then walked back to Danya. “I don’t like that you think of it in those terms, but that’s not your fault. I just don’t understand how you could not want to get as far away from all that as possible.”

 

Danya shrugged and kept his eyes down. He was too afraid of rejection to try to explain how right Simon’s energy made him feel or how deeply he wanted a master who treasured him after a lifetime of being told he was inferior.

 

Simon jumped as a mandarin bounced off of his chest.

 

“What are you messing up now?” Hamish asked as he came back to join them with his shirt bundled full of mandarins.

 

“What? Nothing.” Simon glanced at Danya’s face. “Okay, probably everything, which is why I offered to let him stay with you instead. He doesn’t want to, though, so whatever.”

 

“A wise choice.” Hamish handed Danya several mandarins. “Simon has a better tent than me.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m an asshole,” Simon pointed out.

 

Hamish threw another mandarin at Simon, and this time he caught it. “Try  _ not _ being an asshole.”

 

“Genius. Why didn’t I ever think of that?”

 

“I know, right?” Hamish gave Danya a smile. “The secret of dealing with Simon is not putting up with any of his bullshit.”

 

“I am his property,” Danya pointed out.

 

When Simon made a sound of annoyance, Hamish smacked him in the face without looking away from Danya. “True. That doesn’t matter to him, but it puts you in a difficult position. Still, I just want you to remember that if you tell him to stop doing something because it’s hurting you, he will.”

 

“Wow, what exactly do you expect me to do to the poor boy?” Simon asked.

 

“I expect you to not want to listen to what he’s telling you because the reality of his experiences makes you uncomfortable, and then get frustrated because he stops telling you shit.”

 

“See, this is why you’re a good friend. Who else would be willing to brutally murder me with this kind of honesty?”

 

“Honesty is the best policy, I’ve found, except when it comes to telling men who are insecure about their sexualities that you want to suck their dicks.”


End file.
